The Forrest City times., 1887-11-26
SET IN DIAMONDS,
By Charlotte Braeme. CHAPTER LII-CoNTISurD


 "Yes, as 1 saw her In prison, she looked much more beautiful than she had done at Clavering. She is so faiI lilies and roses are but poor compari. sons; her eyes are lovely, but so sad; she looks ss though she had had a life. time of sorrow. Do you know any one who answers to that description papa?"
 "No," he replied, thoughtfully, "I do not. l wish that 1 could remember Phoebe Askern better. 1 know she was tall and fair, but of one tiSng I am quite sure; 1 should know her if saw her"
 Lord Stair was just little puzzled as to how he should proceed; he was quite determined to see her-the end, he declared to himself, justified the means. He was miserable, his daagh- ter uncomfortable; a wretched sense of mystery and perplexity hung over them all, and it could only be relieved by the identification of the woman.
 All his instincts were against the plan which the lawyer had suggested; seeing her when he himself was unseen. There was something most repulsive in tbe idea, yet, what better could he do: @f he saw that she was Phoebe Askern, there was no more to be done, the whole mystery would then be solved and laid bare. If she were not Phoebe Askern, why--and when he reached that point Lord Stair did not know how to go any further. If she were not Phebe Askern, he did not know, nor could he guess whom she could possi- ply be. The day came at last when he made up his mind to go to Holloway and take his chance. If he could not see her by any othor means, he must have recourse to that which he disliked so much. It was the end of July when he went from Oakclifle to Holloway, determined to end the mystery.
 He had long interview with the governor, Captain Mayne he told him that his sole idea was to identify the woman, and the governor agreed with the lawyer, that as the prisoner had de- clined to see bim, his only resource was to have a glimpse of her as he passed down the prison corridor, as he could see her through the grating of the cell door.
 He consented to 1t at last, and that July afternoon, while the sun shone over the land and the world reJoiced in music and fragrance, he went along the gloomy corridors that led to the cell of No. A. The matron was with him and the governor. He had taken with him the two lockets; he hardly knew why; he had taken with him the letter, writ ten so long ago, in which his wife, Marguerite, Lady Stair, had bidden him farewell.
 No July sun shone in those gloomy corridors; faint flash of light fell on the walls. His heart beat as 1t had never done before.
 The matron came behind him and silently opened the small slide through which one could see the cell and it's occupant. She stood silent for one half moment, then moved aside gently, with look on her face as though she had seen something that was pleasing and beautiful.
 Slowly she made way for him Lord Stair could never, in after days, ex- plain or express the sensation that came over him as he took her place. On the wall opposite, the glow of the light lay strongest. Perhaps that had somewhat dazzled his eyes, for when first he looked into the cell it seemed full of shadows. Nothing was plain, clearly defined, or distinct; self-lumin- ous shadows, and then after a few mo- ments a figure rose softly from them, graceful figure, the face was turned from him, but there was something in the graceful boise of the head, in the graceful bend of the neck and slope of the shoulders, that seemed strangely familiar to him. A figure, seated where the light from the small window fell upon her, a woman's figure that, In spite of the stiff prison dress, was full of gracious lines and curves. He watched 1t for some minutes with dazed eyes; there was no sound; the governor had turned away, the matron was watching him intently as he watched her. Slowly, with soft, sweet grace, the woman rose. She turned from the window to the table. Then it seemed to him that he must have ruddenly gone mad, for out of the shadow--the soft luminous shadow-he saw clearly and distinctly, advancing toward him, nis wife Marguerite Stair. There was the beautiful face, the soft rings of golden hair, the eyes like wet violets, there was the beautiful mouth, with it's sweet curves. For one mo- ment Lord Stair thought he had gone mad.
 His wife-she was unconscious of his presence, and stood looking at some work that she held in her hands.
 Marguerite Nairne, fair almost as when he had first seen her in the gar den at Inisfail, but with such sadness in her face and eyes as he had never seen.
 He tried to cry out, but his lips were closed and dumb they had grown white and cold; he could not open them.
 It was Marguerite Marine! Why should the memory of the scene in the garden at Inisfail come back to him?- why should the symphony of Bach's seem to ring through hts heart and brain; he could almost feel the light touch of the acacia leaves as they fell; he could hear his own voice saying:
 'I will take the risk of your happiness and your life. Twill answer to Heaven for them."
 That was what he had said-those were the words he had registered in Heaven, and the words which stood there against him even then.
 That was his promise-this the ful- fillment. He would take the whole re- sponsibilities of her life and happiness -she was here in a prison cell.
 He would have laughed aloud at his madness if those white locked lips of his could have opened. His wife Mar guerlte was dead; he had seen her lying dead In that ghastly room at Clitfe Station; he had followed her to her last resting g-place in the family vault at Clifie.
 Who, then, in Heavens name, was this woman with his wife's fair face and eyes?
 CHAPTER LII.